Almost Lover
by TearStainedAngel24
Summary: Romano reflects on his time with Spain, as both friends and lovers, and what happened after they fell in love. Spamano song fic, sad, drabble-like. Song: Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy.


**Short (using the term lightly) and sad one-shot song fic. Sort of drabble. Spamano with random hints of UsUk and references of Prussia and France having partners. Enjoy~ **

Tears formed in Romano's chocolate coloured eyes and he sat on a pier, his bare feet skimming though the water, wind tousling his amber hair around and that one stubborn curl danced in the breeze. He may act all tough, but he was just as susceptible to crying as Feliciano was. The difference was that his brother was actually noticed and everyone loved him. He was always the favorite child. Only one man had ever given Romano a second glance, only one man had ever actually liked him.

He had given him everything, and put up with Romano's volatile nature because he saw what no one else bothered to see. He saw the child, the innocent side of Romano. He had seen past the mask of hatred, to the soft eyes that lay behind it. The way his eyes would light up ever so slightly at something cute, or how he would sometimes hum lightly under his breath and allow the slightest of smiles to grace his features when he was making pasta and he thought that he was alone. He saw all the little, subtle things and came to learn how to love them, learned how ignore the anger and see the best side of him.

_Your fingertips across my skin. The palm trees swaying in the wind, images._

_You sang me Spanish lullabies, the sweetest sadness in your eyes, clever trick._

Spain had spent part of his life raising Romano, it was true. The Spaniard had screwed up royally on many occasions, but he had always meant well. As Romano had grown up, moved away, flitted around, Spain had never stopped caring about him. Sure, his love had been creepy as hell at first, and was met with swearing and angrily throw tomatoes, but he was a persistent bastard, that was for sure.

However, that one night, when Romano had caught him sitting under an oak tree by the light of the crescent moon and stars, singing the saddest song he had ever heard and strumming on his guitar, he had been awestruck. The melody was beautiful and original, and he knew that Spain was singing from the bottom of his heart about him, the Italy that everyone forgot. Spain had finished with tears in his eyes, and something about the image in front of him had made his heart melt. Stepping away from the rock he was hiding behind, he walked over to sit down beside the surprised Spanish man. Tentatively, he had lent his head against the man's shoulder, a scowl etched on his face.

"Love you too, tomato bastard." Had been his irritated reply. The shear joy in Spain's eyes had almost made up for the embarrassment. Scratch that, it made Romano's month, not that he would ever admit that out loud.

_Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy. I thought you'd want the same for me._

Spain had run after him every time he stormed out angrily. No matter how hard Romano tried, he could never stay mad at the Spaniard. Even after the turtle incident, Spain had somehow managed to get Romano to forgive him. To this day, no one knew how he pulled that shenanigan off. Perhaps there was something about the way he pouted that melted his heart in an instant. Not that Romano would ever voice that opinion out loud.

Romano found it impossible to get angry for a long time around Spain as well. He was a cheerful guy, no matter how aweful his history was in parts and how poor his country could be in the present days. Romano had never needed to comfort Spain; he had never been able to return the favor. He was ashamed to cry in front of Spain, but the brunette had always sat there with open arms, ready to kiss away the tears at any time he had felt the need to cry, be it after his brother had shown him up again or in the dead of night when he had suffered from a nightmare.

Now that the Italian thought about it, he had this funny way of making Romano feel all fuzzy and warm, not that the amber haired man would ever admit to it. No, he would die of shame is he told anyone just how safe and happy he always felt around Spain.

_Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream. I'm trying not to think about you. Can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance, my back is turned on you. Should've known _

_you'd bring me heartache._

_Almost lovers always do._

Tears fell from Romano's eyes as he thought back to those days. He was painfully aware of the wet drops sliding down his face as he scrunched up his face in an effort to stop them. The wounds were fresh and painful; he hated thinking about the Spaniard. However, no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to get the tan and incredibly sexy man off his mind, as much as he hated to admit it. He should have known that he would take his heart and break it. He should have known, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he could not bring himself to regret falling in love. He was still in love with that man.

_We walked along a crowded street. You took my hand and danced with me in the shade._

_And when you left you kissed my lips. You told me you would never ever forget these images, no._

He could still sense the lingering feeling of his kisses. It was always perfect, no matter how drunk or awkward they were. He had loved everything about that man; his body, his mind, every bit of it. He loved it with a burning passion that could over come even death itself as though it was nothing but a piece of sheep's wool. Their fist kiss had been in a golden meadow, surrounded by gently swaying flowers and ripening tomato plants. It had been just another sunset stroll until their faces had gotten so close, and the electricity passing between them had gotten too strong for Romano to resist anymore.

So he didn't. He had kissed Spain right there and then, just a quick brush before he had turned his head away with a furious blush romping across his face. Spain had just stood there, dumbstruck, before leaping at him and giving him the biggest bear-hug possible, much to the indignity of Romano. He kissed him back with more passion, once again ignoring Romano's squeaks of irritation. He would never have admitted it, but he had loved it. And somehow, even without him saying that, he knew Spain had gotten the idea that Romano had liked it too.

_Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy. I thought you'd want the same for me._

Spain had never left him angry. He had always been considerate of his thoughts and feeling, and always took it as slow or as fast as Romano set. There would be some days that he would screw up royally, but it was never on purpose.

To Romano's credit, he had tried to be more agreeable, which was a massive leap for him. He had been rather cruel at times, but he had only ever had to apologize once, after he banned Spain from his house for nearly a week because he was in a bad mood and his boss was being annoying. It hadn't been Spain's fault, yet he still took all the blame and put up with the violent outbursts and cold shoulder. At the end of it, Romano had realized just what an ass he had been and apologized for the first time in his life. That had left Spain even more dumbstruck than their first kiss.

The light that had shone in the Spaniards eyes once again made up for the embarrassment. God, how he loved that look, he would have done anything to see it again. It was sort of contagious, just the sight of it made the Italian happy and glad to be alive. It was indeed something to live and to die for.

Even though he had had awkward confessions and mumbled apologies before, that was the most he had ever done. This was the first time he had actually looked him in the eyes and stated it clear for the world to hear. A massive grin had spread across his face as he pulled the Italian in for a kiss, with no words other than a simple 'te amo' to accept the apology. He didn't have to do anything else.

_Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream. I'm trying not to think about you. Can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance, my back is turned on you. Should've known you'd bring me heartache._

_Almost lovers always do._

The sun was setting over ocean by now as Romano sat with his memories, letting himself cry. He had lost his self-control in his memories. All he wanted was the Spaniards arms around him, but he knew that was never going to happen again. It was impossible. He could never feel the comfort he gave him again.

_I cannot go to the ocean. I cannot try the streets at night. I cannot wake up in the morning without you on my mind._

_So you're gone and I'm haunted, and I bet you are just fine. Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?_

Had it really been so simple for Spain to leave? Had it really been so easy for one direction of fate to separate them forever? He could hardly do a thing without being reminded of Spain. Seeing his brother's cheery attitude reminded him of Spain. The way America and England acted with each other reminded him of how he and Spain acted with each other. Not that he could stand Spain's friends France and Prussia anyway, but the sight of them almost made him cry, with their arms strung around their lovers. They would always pull away awkwardly when they noticed him glaring at them, death written on his face. He could never eat tomatoes, his favorite and only comfort food, without Spain on his mind. The man had always loved the crimson fruit.

Walking down the street was terrible. The sounds of cars drove him insane. He had been struck and severely injured by one once, and he hated the damn things. Now they had another score against him. It also reminded him of the times he had walked hand-in-hand with Spain, down pavements and boulevards.

He always slept curled around a little tomato pillow that Spain had loved to carry around with him at all times. It stank of him, but never in a bad way. It smelt like sunshine and earth and heat and everything Spain. Romano took it upon himself to carry it around now, as a constant reminder of what almost was. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he swore he could still hear Spain whispering to him, as though it was coming from the pillow itself.

_Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream. I'm trying not to think about you. Why can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance, my back is turned on you. Should've known you'd bring me heartache._

_Almost lovers always do._

Romano stilled his feet in the warm water, tears still falling from his eyes.

"Goddamn it." he muttered under his breath. "Why did you have to go and die on me, bastard…"

**Thank you for reading. Review if you liked it.**


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